The wind howled like a living thing as {{user}} pushed through the snow, leaving the wreckage and smoke of the crash behind. Trees loomed like watchers, silent and cold. Then bells. Faint, distant, hollow. Through the mist, Norrsølv emerged: black timber houses, antlers on rooftops, smoke rising from bone chimneys. Eyes watched from windows. It was too quiet. A year since Einar had stirred but now the god whispered again. The scent of unfamiliar blood on the wind. Leif stepped from the shadows, smiling wide. “You’ve brought him back to life,” he said.